


educational reasons

by delta_trevino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Slow Sex, Switching, there isn’t bondage in this one actually because they talk about it and then get impatient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_trevino/pseuds/delta_trevino
Summary: “Hajime,” Oikawa says, as they’re walking down the street back to their apartment. “Hajime, I want you to tie me up.”Iwaizumi spits out his coffee.Or, kink negotiation and then the kinesthetics.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 13
Kudos: 103





	educational reasons

**Author's Note:**

> holy fuck why is this 9k i'm so sorry parents
> 
> scales of intensity:
> 
> angst: 1/10  
> fluff: 6/10  
> lemon: 8.5/10
> 
> tw: mentions of: choking, rope, gags
> 
> practice safe sex y'all

“Hajime,” Oikawa says, as they’re walking down the street back to their apartment. “Hajime, I want you to tie me up.” 

Iwaizumi spits out his coffee. 

Oikawa laughs, but Iwaizumi notes how tight his hands are gripping his cup. 

“Shittykawa, what the fuck.” 

“You don’t want to?” Oikawa’s grinning.

“I didn’t say that.” Iwaizumi gestures around them. A few other couples are milling around since there’s a blue sky in winter and there’s a skating rink to their left. “But why now?”

Oikawa shrugs. 

“Why are you like this.” It’s not a question, more of a statement. And it’s gradually become more of something Iwaizumi asks himself. Why are you like this, why are you dating this fool, why do you subject yourself to the torture named Oikawa Tooru every day?

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, and I just remembered.” 

“Right now?” 

“Mhmm.” Of course, Oikawa would remember at just the _most_ convenient time.

Iwaizumi sighs. “We’ll talk about it at home.” 

“Okay,” Oikawa hums. 

Iwaizumi takes another sip of his coffee, eyeing Oikawa. 

\---

Iwaizumi and Oikawa have been dating for about two years, two years of everything Iwaizumi’s ever wanted and absolutely nothing good for him. Oikawa wants to be in his pants all the goddamn time; it’s honestly sorcery how Oikawa’s at the top of his class and somehow finds time to go get coffee every morning and steal Iwaizumi’s sanity. 

When they started living together seven months ago, that’s when rough sex had really kicked into high gear. Oikawa is a loud lover, and they ended up getting a handful of noise complaints. After threatening to chuck him out the window Iwaizumi had proposed the idea of a gag tentatively. Oikawa had agreed. And that’s how they stumbled a little over the line of kinky sex.

Recently, while it’s been nice getting Oikawa to scream, or cry, bent over the side of the couch and such, Iwaizumi can tell something’s been on his mind. So although telling Iwaizumi _he wants to be tied up_ on their morning walk at 9 am is not optimal, Iwaizumi supposes it’s pretty moderate damage considering this is Oikawa.

“So,” Iwaizumi says. They’re sitting on their couch and Oikawa’s got his legs on Iwaizumi’s lap, sipping his coffee. Or whatever sugar caffeine mix he gets that’s pretty much crack in a cup.

“Mhmm?” 

“Uh.” Iwaizumi starts off this conversation intelligently, as you do. “You want me to…?” 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa gives an over-dramatic sigh. “I said—” 

“I know what you said,” Iwaizumi cuts in. 

“Okay.” 

“Can we—” Iwaizumi runs a hand through his hair. “We need to talk about it first.” Even though they do use the traffic light system already and have an established safeword, just because you can never be too safe, this is absolutely something they need to be on the same page about. 

Oikawa nods. “Yeah.” 

“I mean, I think we need to talk about everything. Not just tying you up.” The whole idea of tying Oikawa up makes Iwaizumi’s head spin. Of rope, rope Iwaizumi gets to put on his skin. “Just sex in general.” 

“Okay,” Oikawa says. They’ve talked about it before, and obviously, Iwaizumi notices the way Oikawa’s particularly receptive to some stuff.

“And anything you want to mention or whatever so we both know.”

Oikawa nods.

“I’m pretty sure there are checklists you can do online, yes, no, maybe and notes for different kinks and things to try or whatever but I don’t know if we’re there yet,” Iwaizumi says.

“You’re very knowledgeable about this, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teases. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. He’s sure Oikawa’s got a mind just as dirty as him, if not worse.

“I did some research after I gagged you for the first time.” Iwaizumi takes a sip of his coffee. “Didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Oikawa hums. “Thank you.” 

“Also didn’t want to be looking after your whiny ass for longer than necessary.” Aftercare is another thing they’ll need to think about, although they look after each other already. Cream and baths, soothing words after rougher scenes.

Oikawa looks pointedly around their apartment covered in photographs of them, their shared cups half full with water and a few plants.

“Fuck off.” 

Oikawa laughs, his feet shifting in Iwaizumi’s lap. “So, whatever we want to try?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi chews on the inside of his mouth. “First, tell me what you like.” They have sex regularly and communicate all the way through it—it’s not like they’ve never discussed this, but this is a conscious decision to talk about it in depth.

“C’mere,” he says, setting his drink down on a stack of last year’s textbooks. Oikawa climbs into his arms, sighing once Iwaizumi accommodates him like a cocoon. Conversations about them are easier with Oikawa in his arms.

“Whatever I want to try with you?” Oikawa has a little snark in his voice, a devious lit. He puts his empty cup on the textbooks too, curling his feet up. 

Iwaizumi prods Oikawa’s calf with his foot. “Just whatever you’re curious about.”

Oikawa grins, tipping his head in thought with a smile that’s toeing the line of suggestive and sweet. Iwaizumi’s grateful they had a round of lazy morning sex already otherwise there would be a risk of this conversation being put on hold in lieu of sullying the couch. 

“I think…” 

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi reaches up to scratch his head.

Iwaizumi’s nails graze over the nape of Oikawa’s neck.“We don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want to,” he says, relaxed. Just in case Oikawa jumped the idea of him as more of a joke, just in case he wants an out.

“No, no, I do,” Oikawa insists, seriously. He tips his head back into Iwaizumi’s hand. “I want to.” 

“Okay.” Iwaizumi tugs on Oikawa’s hair. His eyes fall to half-mast. “Stuff like that. It doesn’t have to be a huge deal.” 

Oikawa hums. “Okay.” He opens his eyes when Iwaizumi extracts his hand. “Well you know I like that.”

“I had a feeling.” Iwaizumi glances at Oikawa’s knees. He knows there’s a few bruises under Oikawa’s sweatpants from blowing Iwaizumi at unsolicited times of the day in unsolicited places. And he knows that’s when Oikawa likes his hair to be pulled on, almost abused as Iwaizumi fucks into his mouth. 

“Praise.” Oikawa says. “I like it when praise me.” _Good job, Tooru. You’re so pretty like this. Taking me so well. Good boy._

A lot of their firsts were with each other, so encouragement and praise naturally just flowed into the bedroom. Makes sense. And Oikawa’s got the whole dual complex, inferior and superior, depending on the day of the week and his mood. If he likes praise, there’s a chance degradation will float his boat too. That’s a conversation for later, Iwaizumi decides. He’s not going to jump the gun.

“Okay.” Iwaizumi plays with Oikawa’s fingers. “Praise kink.” 

“Yeah.” 

Iwaizumi knows from the way Oikawa’s fingers twitch and he swallows that he’s thinking of when they have sex. “You’re thinking lewd thoughts.” 

“So are you!” 

“Maybe.”

Iwaizumi fiddles with Oikawa’s fingers, tracing the ridges and anatomy of his bones. The skeleton. 

“I like pain,” Oikawa says.

“Specifics?” Iwaizumi wants to make sure if he hurts Oikawa it’s in the right way, the way Oikawa wants it.

Oikawa hesitates. 

“Tell me what we did that you liked.”

“I liked it when you shoved me to my knees the other day,” Oikawa admits. Iwaizumi refrains from choking on his own spit and nods slowly instead.

“I like it when you scratch my back.” This time Iwaizumi flushes. He remembers that day, trying to drive Oikawa’s cock deeper into him after seeing him in a suit. The next morning Oikawa had woken up with criss crossed red lines on his back.

“I really um—” Oikawa shoves his head into Iwaizumi’s chest and says into his shirt. Iwaizumi can feel the heat on Oikawa’s ears. He’d be embarrassed too, if he wasn’t so turned on.

“When you finger me a little less, like when you’re really desperate.” Oikawa’s lips move against Iwaizumi’s sweater. “It hurts, but in a really fucking good way.” 

Iwaizumi swears once under his breath.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says unevenly. “I like it too,” he says, so that Oikawa knows he’s not alone. 

“What?” 

Iwaizumi likes when they do it rough, and Oikawa’s begging already, pressing his ass to Iwaizumi’s cock or trying to push him down to ride frantically and lets Iwaizumi prep him a little less. It’s always so tight, and hot, and fuck, maybe they do need to fuck again today. 

“I like it too,” Iwaizumi repeats. 

Oikawa laughs into his sweater like a teenager. 

“You’re self-destructive. It makes sense you’re a masochist,” Iwaizumi says. 

“Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi scratches the back of his head—in a non-sexual way. “What else do you like?” 

“When you gag me.” That’s no secret. After the first time they tried it, Oikawa asked for it again with an embarrassed flush on his face, even when there weren't any tenants below them. “But yeah, I want you to tie me up.” 

“Like rope?” 

“Like rope.” 

Iwaizumi wants to go buy it right now. He wants to tie Oikawa up right now. He won’t though, if he’s right he’ll need to practice the knots beforehand and make sure they’re doing it safely.

“Okay.” Iwaizumi is absolutely not getting turned on by a conversation. “Okay. Is there anything you don’t like? Or want to avoid?” 

Oikawa thinks for a second.

“Roleplay, right now.”

Iwaizumi nods.

“I’ve never tried it, so maybe it’s not fair to knock it right away but…” 

“Well it’s not like we have to decide for life,” Iwaizumi says. “If you change your mind in the future it’s fine and we can try it.” 

Oikawa rolls his thumb over Iwaizumi’s knuckles. “And spit. Don’t spit on me,” he says. “It’s fine if you’re using it for a handjob and it’s not like I want to stop making out but I don’t know, I don’t like the idea.”

“What about my spit kink?” Iwaizumi flicks his forehead.

“Suffer.” 

Iwaizumi laughs once. Oikawa knows he doesn't have a spit kink.

Oikawa grins at him. “Nothing else comes to mind right now.”

“Well, we can come back to this. It’s not set in stone or whatever.” Iwaizumi snorts at the idea of a plaque that says _Oikawa Tooru has a Praise Kink._

“So what do you like?” 

Iwaizumi thinks for a second. So Oikawa likes praise, a little bit of pain and hair pulling, gagged and possibly being tied up. 

Don’t think too much, Iwaizumi tells himself. Just say it. 

“I like it when you beg. I like it when you’re loud and when you scream.”

“Holy fuck, Hajime.” Oikawa’s face is in his hands. That’s where they differ a little. Oikawa likes being kept silent and Iwaizumi likes making his throat hurt from pleading and having him cry out. 

“Too much?”

“No, just, it’s different hearing you say it out loud.” Iwaizumi understands. It’s different sinking into Oikawa and having Oikawa describe what he likes about it and why. 

“I like it when you’re desperate.” 

“Me too,” Oikawa mumbles. “I like that too.” 

Iwaizumi’s pushed Oikawa’s patience, but most of the time he’s too turned on to draw it out for too long. But there have been times when Oikawa shoves him into a wall and tells Iwaizumi to fuck him right now, _right now,_ and if Iwaizumi takes too long to undress Oikawa, Oikawa will fall to his knees and put his mouth to work. And those times, _goddamn._ Iwaizumi wants to test how desperate he can make Oikawa.

“I think that’s a little bit like the pain thing, too,” Oikawa says. “Like denial.” 

“We can try that too, if you want.” Iwaizumi drums his fingers on Oikawa’s hand. 

“I want to. I want to.” Oikawa’s breath is shallow. “Keep going.” 

“Sadist.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi knows by his voice Oikawa’s turned on by this. 

“Okay, I’m not going to do anything to hurt you, obviously, but I kinda like it—” 

“What if I want that?” Oikawa interrupts.

“What?” 

“What if I want you to hurt me? What if I beg for you to hurt me?” Oikawa’s breathing is fast and it’s making it hard for Iwaizumi to focus. 

“You want that?” 

“Yeah,” Oikawa exhales.

Iwaizumi fleetingly wonders if he has a voice kink because he could probably come from Oikawa talking like this alone. 

“I think so,” Oikawa continues. “At least I want to try it.” 

Iwaizumi does not let himself imagine that right now. Conversation first. Then maybe fucking out Oikawa’s brains later. Later.

“What were you going to say? I kinda like it…?” Oikawa prods Iwaizumi’s leg. 

“I kinda like it when you choke.” To be clear, Iwaizumi doesn’t want Oikawa to get hurt on the court or walking down the street or whatever, but he’s really pretty when he’s deepthroating Iwaizumi’s cock—it took Oikawa about a year to perfect his blow jobs—and gags slightly, but then continues. 

“Okay. Wait, like—” Oikawa takes Iwaizumi’s hand, slowly lifting it up and presses it to his collarbone. It’s not high enough to restrict his windpipe, but Iwaizumi gets the memo. Choking. Autoerotic asphyxiation.

“I meant when you’re on your knees.” 

Oikawa makes a soft, strangled noise. 

“But this. Maybe.” Iwaizumi tightens his grip, just incrementally to see Oikawa’s fingers twitch. He can feel the blood thrumming through Oikawa’s arteries in his neck. “It’s dangerous though.” 

Oikawa nods. “Right.” 

“Are you interested?” 

Oikawa nods, slightly. “I’m interested in almost everything with you.” 

Iwaizumi takes his hand off Oikawa’s neck. “Same.” He has turn-ons and kinks and whatever, but at the end of the day if he’s fucking Oikawa so it doesn’t really matter.

“And—” Iwaizumi still isn’t sure. “When you cry.” 

“Is a tear kink a thing?” 

“Dacryphilia,” Iwaizumi says. He looked it up out of curiosity once.

“You like it when I cry?” Oikawa sounds surprised. 

“Hey, don’t kinkshame.” 

“I’m not.” Oikawa goes on the defensive. “I just didn’t expect that.” 

“And not all the time. I’m not going to get turned on if you start crying during a movie or whatever.” 

Oikawa nods. Iwaizumi can practically hear the cogs in his brain, connecting the crying and desperation to his sadism.

Iwaizumi wonders if he’s throwing too many things on Oikawa at once. “I want to try fisting.” 

“Like you want to stick your hand up my ass?” 

“No.” Iwaizumi bits his lip so hard it could bleed. For all his chastising, Oikawa’s so vulgar. “Other way around.”

“You want me to stick my hand up your ass.” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi knows the tips of his cheeks are red.

Oikawa squints at him. “Do you have a thing for my fingers?” 

“Maybe.” Oikawa’s fingers are pretty and lanky, and so good at taking him apart. They’re so precise, good at holding Iwaizumi’s hips down, and also good at opening himself up when Iwaizumi wants to watch. They’re good at everything they do.

“So you must really like my hand jobs,” Oikawa laughs. 

“Shut up.” 

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

“When you’re too gentle with me,” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa’s always worried he’s going to hurt Iwaizumi when he tops, using such liberal amounts of lube and moving slower than a snail.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Iwa-chan.” 

“You won’t.” Iwaizumi pauses. “Okay, let me rephrase. Sometimes, most of the time, I want you to pin me down and fuck the living daylights out of me.” 

Oikawa plucks a loose string on their couch indignantly. “We do that sometimes.” 

“We end up doing it your way all the time, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi knows Oikawa just cares, he wants to take care of Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi shouldn’t complain, really, but Oikawa just goes so slow. 

“But I don’t want to hurt you!” Oikawa’s getting riled up, and for good reason. Iwaizumi sighs. 

“We have the traffic light system for a reason, and a safeword.” 

“Yeah but—” 

Iwaizumi realizes he’s doing it wrong. “Hey, sorry. Oikawa—sorry.” Iwaizumi looks at him square on. “We don’t have to do that if you’re not comfortable. Forget it.” 

“No, I am, I’m just worried,” Oikawa rushes, “I want to fuck the living daylights out of you too, but I don’t want to accidentally kill you or something.” 

“That would be a good way to go. Death by dick.” 

“Iwa-chan!” 

“Yeah, yeah, but really. I’m sorry. We don’t have to.” Now Iwaizumi feels shitty. 

“I’ll think about it.”

Iwaizumi nods. 

“This feels like phone sex,” Oikawa says. Since they live together, they can just fuck instead of thorough the screen or using a phone, but Iwaizumi can’t deny the lick of heat in his stomach at the thought of that. 

“Kinda does.” Iwaizumi wonders if that has to do with Oikawa’s voice.

“So...”

“We can have this conversation again whenever you want to. If one of us wants to try something or anything changes,” Iwaizumi emphasizes. “Tell me how you feel after, okay?” 

Oikawa nods. “What if we—” He cuts himself off. 

“Yeah?” 

“What if we fuck, and I’ll tell you what I like as you do it?” 

Iwaizumi might combust. His nerves skyrocket and plummet to the ground all at once. Even after two years of being with Oikawa, and more than two decades of being around him, Oikawa still has this effect.

“You can tell me what you like. First hand experiences, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary. 

“We don’t have any rope yet.” 

“Oh, wait you wanna go now?”

“I thought you meant—” 

“If you’re asking right now, sure,” Oikawa says easily. “I’m interested in everything with you.”

Iwaizumi leans over to Oikawa, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Okay. Do you want something specific today?” 

“You’re being so nice, Iwa-chan.” 

“Tell me before I take it back.” 

Just as there are days when Iwaizumi wants to scratch a certain itch, or sometimes Oikawa wants vanilla sex, sometimes he wants to be broken on Iwaizumi’s fingers as Iwaizumi’s sucks him off, sometimes he doesn’t care how it happens he just wants it _now._

“We can’t do everything we talked about today.” Iwaizumi can tell Oikawa’s running over the possibilities in his head, mulling over their combined lists and wants and ideas.

“There’s a thing called tomorrow.” And the next day. And the next day. And on and on.

“Break me,” Oikawa decides. He turns to Iwaizumi, pinning him with determined eyes. “Break me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi could swear all the air just got sucked out of the room. “You want me to break you?”

Oikawa swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I want that. Make me cry.” 

Iwaizumi swears. “For the experience,” he says.

Oikawa nods. “Of course. Educational reasons.”

\---

“Slow, alright?” Iwaizumi says, stepping towards Oikawa, whose hair is dripping wet from his shower. The rivets of water tease Iwaizumi, curving down Oikawa’s chest and disappearing into the towel slung around his shoulders. “Talk to me.” 

“I like that.” Oikawa’s breathing is already shallow. He takes a step towards Iwaizumi across their bedroom floor, leaving footprints behind. “I like it. When you take control.” 

“Mmm.” Iwaizumi presses his fingers into the drops rolling down Oikawa’s skin. “Okay.” Sometimes, he likes that too. Oikawa looks good above him, telling him what to do, drunk on a power trip.

Iwaizumi hooks a finger under the edge of Oikawa’s towel, tugging on it so it slides down his shoulders and hangs precariously. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, a certain lit in his voice.

Iwaizumi pushes the white towel off. It pools around Oikawa’s feet, next to the edge of their bed. 

The way Oikawa looks like slows time. The click of their clock is relaxed as Iwaizumi’s eyes skim over Oikawa’s frame. He’s toned, highlighted with stretch marks and so fucking _pretty._

“Colour?” Iwaizumi’s throat is already dry. 

“Green.” Oikawa reaches out for him, and Iwaizumi feels hand tugging at his shirt—he’s still dressed—pulling him in. “Kiss me.”

Oikawa’s kiss is sweet, pulling on the sides of Iwaizumi’s lips and a lick of tongue. It’s a languid kiss, one that deserves a sunset or an anniversary. One that’s full of emotion. Iwaizumi’s hands find Oikawa’s bare hips, resting on them with promise, finger pads creating little dents, comfortable divots where they’re connected.

“I like this,” Oikawa says when he pulls away. “I like kissing you.” 

Iwaizumi feels his heart leap, and his hands become hot. Yes, they’re planning to have sex, but Oikawa makes the kiss feel special, like it’s innocent and they’re back in high school. “I like kissing you too.” God, he sounds like a high schooler.

Oikawa back in, pressing his lips to Iwaizumi’s. They’re always so soft, and Iwaizumi licks over them, and then bites, sensually, because he likes to watch them puff up. 

“I like that too.” 

“I like it when there are marks on your lips,” Iwaizumi mumbles against Oikawa’s mouth, and bites down, harder. “When they swell.” 

Oikawa hums, and Iwaizumi feels it against his chest.

Oikawa’s tongue slips into his mouth, explorative, and Iwaizumi relaxes his jaw. He lets Oikawa’s run his tongue over Iwaizumi’s teeth, press against his tongue, pulling back right before it gets a little too spitty. 

“I like when we kiss like that.” Oikawa licks his lips. “When time stops.” 

“You’re a sap,” Iwaizumi says as he pulls Oikawa back in. “I like this, too.” 

Iwaizumi runs his thumbs in circles over Oikawa’s bare hips as they kiss, focussing on the press and slide of Oikawa’s pink mouth, the way he kisses like they’re here to kiss, not to fuck. For someone who wants to be broken down today and cry, it’s so romantic.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi pulls back. “Let me look at you.” 

Oikawa tips his head to the right, as if questioning, until Iwaizumi takes two steps away and then Oikawa’s hand floats up, reaching for him. 

“I like watching you.” Iwaizumi’s eyes work down Oikawa’s body. He remembers. “You look good like this.”

Oikawa’s throat bobs. _Praise kink._

“I like the flush on your cheeks.” Iwaizumi watches Oikawa’s eyes flutter, and his hands twitch. Iwaizumi wants to devour him. “I like the lines of your body.” Oikawa’s endless lines and sketches of art that deserve to be in a museum. 

“I like your hands, and your ass, and your stretch marks.” Oikawa looks like one of those roman statues, crafted out of stone or clay. Iwaizumi knows Oikawa is self-conscious of his stretch marks, although they’re gorgeous. Little lines of sunshine.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s embarrassed, even though he’s clearly enjoying the praise. 

Iwaizumi lifts his hands over his head and waits. “I like it when you undress me with those fingers.” 

Seconds later, lanky fingers are removing his shirt, tracing the lines of his body appreciatively. Oikawa’s handsy. He’s remembered Iwaizumi’s hand thing. Finger thing.

“Underwear too.” Iwaizumi puts some authority into his voice, just to see Oikawa’s pupils dilate a little. 

Oikawa reaches down to pull down Iwaizumi’s underwear when Iwaizumi clicks his tongue. 

“On your knees.” 

Oikawa’s head tilts forward, eyes lowered, and he drops to his knees with a thud. Iwaizumi feels the floor dip at Oikawa’s weight, a knock to his self-control with Oikawa _right there._

“I like you on your knees,” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa nods, sliding his fingers into Iwaizumi’s waistband and pulling his underwear down. It collides with Oikawa’s towel on the floor, pooling around Iwaizumi’s feet and Oikawa’s knees. “Colour?”

“Green.” Oikawa looks up at him from the floor from under his eyelashes. Long, pretty eyelashes Iwaizumi wants to see tears drip from, ones that frame his warm eyes, asking and waiting for Iwaizumi’s approval. “Can I?”

He hesitates, and then continues. “I like sucking you off. When you fuck my mouth.”

Iwaizumi groans. Fucking Oikawa and his voice. Velvet and sink mixed together with that touch of lust. “I like when you ask. So. Fucking. Pretty.” 

Oikawa lets out a small whimper from the back of his throat. 

“Sure,” Iwaizumi says. “Go slow.” 

Oikawa nods, a small smile on his face at the permission. He might be the one on his knees, but Iwaizumi’s at his mercy. There’s a power imbalance that comes with blow jobs, but it’s always the person on their knees who has it. The person who takes the other apart as slow or fast as they want, teasing, teasing, _teasing._

Iwaizumi feels kisses being pressed to his cock, light, teasing ones that become deliberate. Soft lips with intent motions. Oikawa’s hands grab onto Iwaizumi’s thighs, nails grazing his skin. Iwaizumi resists the urge to fuck into Oikawa’s mouth right away, slick heat encasing him. 

“Good boy.” Iwaizumi tries to retain a sense of control between them, even if it’s just a semblance.

Oikawa licks at Iwaizumi’s slit, running his tongue back and forth to pick up any precome. He knows he’s in charge. Oikawa moves torturously slow, and Iwaizumi revels in every lick, every lap, and the soft whimper that escapes Oikawa when his hands end up in Oikawa’s hair. 

Oikawa takes Iwaizumi’s cock in his mouth, moaning around it when Iwaizumi fists his hair. Iwaizumi can feel Oikawa’s lips vibrating with the sound and his hips jerk. Oikawa takes it easily, almost leaning forwards to chase the accidental thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. Iwaizumi’s breath catches.

“That’s it, Tooru,” Iwaizumi groans. 

Oikawa pops off Iwaizumi’s cock, dragging his tongue a little longer to tease. His eyes glimmer at the way Iwaizumi’s melted for him, a pleased, small smile on his face.

“I like your hands in my hair,” he says. Iwaizumi’s eyes stay trained on Oikawa’s pretty mouth. Pink and moving, Iwaizumi wants it. On his cock, on his mouth, on him. 

“I liked what you were doing before.” Iwaizumi pulls on his hair, hearing his boyfriend’s breath hitch. He drags Oikawa back to his cock with authority, taking full advantage of how easy Oikawa follows him, eyes trained on his cock. “I like your mouth on me.”

“You like this too, right?” Oikawa takes a hand off Iwaizumi’s thigh and wraps his fingers around Iwaizumi’s cock. He uses his thumb to smear Iwaizumi’s precome around, fingers working up and down at a slow pace. That pinpoint dexterity and accuracy from volleyball carry over into the bedroom. It makes his head spin, wildly and without mercy. 

“Right, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s a little shit. The part of Iwaizumi that knows control is crumbling from his grip, rears up at Oikawa’s taunt, and another, small part wants to play straight into Oikawa’s pretty hands.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi breathes out with his teeth gritted. 

Oikawa smiles slightly at that, twisting his wrist. Iwaizumi’s breath comes out audibly strained.

“I like you like this,” Oikawa says, flexing the power flowing through his voice. “Didn’t know you liked my fingers that much.” 

“—I don’t.” 

Oikawa digs his thumb into Iwaizumi’s slit. 

“ _Tooru,_ ” Iwaizumi drags out, his hips tipping forwards. He’s watching Oikawa’s hands work around him, joints and knuckles and god, Iwaizumi does really like Oikawa’s fingers.

“Colour?” Oikawa asks, because it’s important—regardless of who’s traditionally in charge—that they’re both okay with everything.

“Green,” Iwaizumi groans.

Oikawa’s smug, taking advantage of his long fingers to draw out Iwaizumi’s pleasure or pain, whatever category this falls into. “I like you desperate.”

As much as Iwaizumi likes this, he wants to flip their positions and make Oikawa the one edging pain and pressure. He wants to be in command.

So, with a shudder, Iwaizumi pulls on Oikawa’s hair roughly, eyes skimming to Oikawa’s eyes. They’re hazing over, rolling back every so slightly in the same way they do when Oikawa sinks down to ride him, and Iwaizumi stifles another groan in the back of his throat. 

“This isn’t desperate,” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa’s hand stutters. 

Iwaizumi pulls on Oikawa’s hair for emphasis. “I promise—” he lifts up his foot and places it on Oikawa’s cock experimentally. “—that _you_ will be desperate.” 

Oikawa lets out a choked sound. “I like that,” he says, quietly, like an admission. His thumb is still running in little circles on Iwaizumi’s cock, quiet stimulation and it’s making Iwaizumi’s brain fuzz over, making it hard to think at all. It’s never been easy to think with Oikawa around.

“This?” Iwaizumi puts pressure on his foot, pressing into Oikawa’s pale thighs. 

Oikawa gasps. “Yeah. Yeah, that.” His voice is rough, gravelly and needy. “Do it again.”

Iwaizumi shifts more of his weight onto Oikawa’s cock, and then off completely. “Maybe later.”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s getting worked up. His hand starts moving again, trying to lull Iwaizumi into a state where Oikawa can call the shots, but Iwaizumi ribs his nails over Oikawa’s head, hard enough to leave marks. 

Then he threads his hands through Oikawa's hair, and yanks so hard Oikawa’s eyes flutter closed. “I like seeing you desperate too, Tooru.”

 _“Fuck.”_ His Adam’s Apple bobs, pale neck exposed and begging for Iwaizumi to mark it up. 

“C’mere,” Iwaizumi gravels, forcing Oikawa to his feet. “Bed, now.”

“I like that,” Oikawa whispers with a sway. His hands grip Iwaizumi’s forearms, holding on like he needs to be anchored. “Really like that.” 

Iwaizumi backs Oikawa up against their bed, hands still in his hair. He shoves a knee in between Oikawa’s legs, and Oikawa lets them spread with no resistance. It’s a submissive move, giving control to Iwaizumi to manhandle him, to control Oikawa’s body and _shit._ Iwaizumi wants to tie him up. Take full advantage of him, everything he has to offer.

Oikawa bites down on his lip when Iwaizumi’s thigh brushes his cock. His hips tilt forwards, trying to get some friction as Iwaizumi mouths at his neck. Drags his teeth down Oikawa’s sensitive skin to lick the mark after, kissing every inch of warm, shifting and simmering skin underneath his lips.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa tightens his grip on Iwaizumi’s forearm. Precome from Oikawa’s handjob leaves streaks on Iwaizumi’s arm. “Touch me.” They haven't paid any attention to Oikawa’s cock yet. “I like it when you touch me.” 

Iwaizumi hums against the column of his neck. He presses a kiss to Oikawa’s mouth, who drinks it up. Iwaizumi really is lucky to have Oikawa who switches between being a brat and then giving everything up without a second thought. “You’re not desperate enough.” 

“Iwa-chan, no, please touch me.” Oikawa grinds down on his knee. Precome smears against Iwaizumi’s bare legs. “Touch me.”

“I like it when you beg.” Iwaizumi nips at Oikawa’s neck. 

“Please, please—” 

Iwaizumi shoves him backwards, onto the bed. “Let me look at you.” Oikawa falls back with a gasp, hitting the sheets on his side and curling up, reaching for his cock.

“No,” Iwaizumi commands, reaching over to encircle Oikawa’s wrist with his hand and pin against the bed. Oikawa’s fingers twitch. “No touching. That’s my job.” 

Oikawa lets out a whine in the back of his throat. Iwaizumi tacks both of Oikawa’s hands onto the bed. “Colour?” 

“Green.” 

Iwaizumi hums. “These stay here.” He puts a pulse of weight into Oikawa’s wrists, and then slowly backs off. Oikawa’s hands shake, but the back of his hands stay against the bed. 

“Good boy.”

Oikawa lets out a raspy whine. “Like when you—” He licks his lips, words slurring together. “Like when you say it’s your job.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi runs a hand over his arm, tracing the veins. “You like it when it’s my job to take care of you? To make you feel good?”

Oikawa nods, his chin bobbing. “When it’s your job. _Your_ job.”

“Mm.” Iwaizumi’s hands travel over his collarbones, bumping over the dips in his ribs and down to his abdomen, palms pressing into his stomach. Tender skin, his breaths drawing Iwaizumi’s hands closer like the pull of tides, rolling riptides that carefully wrench Iwaizumi’s breaks away from his self-restraint. “ _My_ job. You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Oikawa implores, hands going to reach up for Iwaizumi until he sees the look on Iwaizumi’s face. _These stay here._ He’s torn in between reaching up, to touch, to _feel_ , and to keep his hands on the bed like Iwaizumi said. To follow orders.

The hands sink down, tendons straining in Oikawa’s arms. 

“Oh, that’s it, Tooru.” Iwaizumi pushes his hair back, stroking a thumb over Oikawa’s forehead. “I’ll take care of you. Like taking care of you.”

“Please.” Oikawa’s legs shake. They bend, his knees coming up to bracket Iwaizumi on his thighs at the praise.

“I said, no touching,” Iwaizumi hisses, casting an accusatory glance at Oikawa. Disappointed. Oikawa shoves his legs down instantly, guilt on his face and an apology bubbling under his throat but the damage has already been done. 

“Iwa—“

“And I said to let me look at you.” Iwaizumi leans back and shoves apart Oikawa’s legs, forcing him to lie flat onto his back. “Can’t fucking wait to tie you up and then you won’t be able to move. Won’t be able to touch.” 

Oikawa’s back arcs and he moans at that. In between his legs, Iwaizumi watches Oikawa’s chest rise and fall dramatically, the way his cock sits, flushed and waiting, and how Oikawa’s eyes haze over when Iwaizumi pets his thighs.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa exhales. “Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi avoids his cock, running his hands over Oikawa’s inner thighs and around to his stretch marks in appreciation. The white bedsheets highlight his skin, a livewire that sends jolts through Iwaizumi every time they touch. 

“Mm. So pretty.”

Oikawa’s hips jerk when Iwaizumi’s hand ghosts the tip of his cock. 

“Please,” Oikawa stutters out. 

In response, Iwaizumi shifts backwards. He leans over and bites Oikawa’s thigh. Runs his tongue over the mark, kissing and biting again. “I like when these bruise.” 

Oikawa’s thighs are trembling, so Iwaizumi holds his hips down with his hands, pushing Oikawa into the bed and crinkled sheets. A string of begging is coming out of Oikawa’s mouth in between gasps, the stimulation not enough to push him over the edge but enough to get him there. 

“Please, Iwa-chan, _fuck—_ ” Iwaizumi lips at the darkening skin there. It takes time to mark up Oikawa’s strong thighs, time so that tomorrow whenever Oikawa sits down and his legs chafe against his jeans he’ll be sensitive, he’ll remember this and Iwaizumi between his legs.

There are long fingers that slide into Iwaizumi’s hair, tugging, needy little pulls. Iwaizumi’s eyes flutter as he keeps working on Oikawa’s thighs thoroughly. 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice breaks. “Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi licks Oikawa’s cock, once, and his boyfriend sobs, trying to cant his hips upwards. Trying to get some relief, some stimulation, something. 

Iwaizumi grins, and bites down hard on Oikawa’s thigh. He licks a stripe on Oikawa’s thigh roughly. It’s reddening. 

_“Hajime.”_ The fingers in Iwaizumi’s hair pull, demanding attention. Iwaizumi sits up to see Oikawa’s hair smothered against the sheets, his mouth twisted into a wreck, tears gathering in the corners of Oikawa’s eyes. Iwaizumi’s dick twitches. Oikawa’s about to cry. 

“Fucking pretty boy.” Iwaizumi crushes their mouths together, hands on either side of Oikawa’s head. Oikawa coughs into the kiss, legs trembling underneath Iwaizumi and hands gripping at his back. 

“Hajime,” Oikawa says, catching his breath. 

Iwaizumi waits, because god, Oikawa looks beautiful like this. He’s always beautiful, undeniable, but it’s not fair Oikawa gets to look this _good_ when he’s a mess, when he’s begging and crying and _fuck._ The tears in his swollen eyes and red cock, curved against his abdomen are a nice touch. Lifting a hand, Iwaizumi brushes away one tear tracking down his cheek. 

“Yeah?” 

“I like that—I like that a lot,” Oikawa says, nails scratching the back of Iwaizumi’s head. “I like when you’re on top of me, but can you fuck me—” 

“I like when you’re under me.” Iwaizumi nuzzles at the underside of Oikawa’s neck, who stretches to let Iwaizumi kiss it, to give Iwaizumi access. And Iwaizumi knows Oikawa has probably conditioned himself to do that, to give up his skin and control. To let Iwaizumi take care of him, and Iwaizumi just about caves right there for him. 

“Yeah, yeah. But—” 

He’s cut off when Iwaizumi bites his neck, teeth drilling hard into his sweet skin and breaking the first layer of skin. Not enough to draw blood, but Oikawa chokes on his words. 

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi asks with a small smile, licking over the mark. 

“Hajime.” Oikawa’s being pushed further, teetering towards the edge of the cliff, Iwaizumi can hear it in his voice. “Hajime, I like it when you fuck me. Fuck me, please, _please,_ Iwa-chan.”

His voice pours honey over Iwaizumi’s already shortened patience. It’s enticing, it’s coated in tears and desperation and Iwaizumi almost gives in. Almost. 

“Not yet.” 

Oikawa sobs. “Please, please—” Nails indent Iwaizumi’s back, possibly drawing blood. “I need you right now.” 

“Colour?” 

“Green, green, but can you—” 

“I’m getting the lube.” 

Oikawa’s breathing eases slightly at that.

“I like it when you beg. I like it when you tell me how much you want it,” Iwaizumi says to keep Oikawa going as he leans over to their nightstand. He grabs their half-empty back bottle, and a condom.

“I want it so bad,” Oikawa says mindlessly, ready to fulfill whatever Iwaizumi says. “I want you to fuck me so bad, right now, fuck Iwa-chan, please fuck me—” His words are becoming incoherent, parts of sentences strung together cut off by sobs and whimpers. 

“I like when you lose your words.” Iwaizumi uncaps the lube, the condom waiting in a fold of the sheets. “Sit up.” 

Oikawa tries, really he does, but he falls back onto his back. Iwaizumi looks at him apathetically, almost with disappointment, and Oikawa whimpers, scrambling to sit up. He’s eager to please.

“I like watching you stretch yourself.” Iwaizumi takes one of Oikawa’s trembling hands and pours the lube onto it. His wrist shakes in Iwaizumi’s grasp.

“No, can you—I need you to,” Oikawa says shakily, as his fingers curl over the lube to warm it up. “I like it when you do it.”

“I’ll help you, don’t worry.” Iwaizumi squeezes lube onto his hand too, before recapping the bottle and discarding it on the sheets. 

“Up,” Iwaizumi says. He has Oikawa support himself on his sore thighs, which are swelling up with bite marks. 

“Good.” Iwaizumi presses a kiss to Oikawa’s lips. His mouth is halfway open, parted to beg and breathe for Iwaizumi. 

“Now, go on,” Iwaizumi says. “Stretch yourself for me.” 

Oikawa bites his lips in frustration. “Want you to do it. Like when you do it."

Iwaizumi’s cock twitches. He takes Oikawa’s hand covered in lube and aligns it with his. “I’ll show you.” Oikawa’s knuckles are aligned with his, pale skin against Iwaizumi’s calluses.

“Here.” Iwaizumi reaches behind Oikawa and presses Oikawa’s pointer finger against his rim. “Start.” Slowly, Iwaizumi circles Oikawa’s rim with both their fingers, feeling it flutter against them. 

“That’s right,” Iwaizumi says. “That’s how you do it.” 

Oikawa whimpers, slumping over so his forehead falls onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Hair tickles Iwaizumi’s neck. “Not enough.”

“This isn’t enough?” Iwaizumi wants to jump him right _now_. Fill him up and fuck him into the mattress until Oikawa’s crying from overstimulation. The fluttering he can feel against his finger isn’t helping.

“Give me your cock.” Oikawa begs again. “Please.” 

“Not yet. You wanted to be broken.” Iwaizumi says with fake patience, and pushes Oikawa’s finger into his entrance.

Oikawa’s begging is cut off by a moan. 

“Small circles, okay Tooru? Do this for me.” Oikawa nods, bottom lip tucked under his top teeth. Iwaizumi plays with his rim as Oikawa fucks himself on one finger, hips moving slowly. 

“ _Ah!”_ Oikawa gasps when Iwaizumi rolls his thumb over Oikawa’s entrance with practiced laziness. He dips inside, where Oikawa’s pointer finger is already sitting. 

“Colour?” 

“Green.” Oikawa’s own finger sinks deeper. “Again, Iwa-chan.” 

This time Iwaizumi does it again, hooking his thumb under Oikawa’s rim and rubbing it back and forth to stretch Oikawa out. 

“Two fingers,” Iwaizumi instructs. When Oikawa pulls out, about to let another one of his fingers join, Iwaizumi knocks it away. He places his pointer finger on top of Oikawa’s again, and presses the two of them inside together. Carefully, slowly, letting Oikawa feel the burn of being stretched.

Oikawa lets out a sob against his shoulder.

“There you go.” Iwaizumi slowly eases their fingers deeper into Oikawa’s tight heat. “That’s a good boy, Tooru.” 

Oikawa’s hand stutters at the praise. Iwaizumi wraps his hand around the back of Oikawa’s, his knuckles against Iwaizumi’s palm. 

“You take this so well,” Iwaizumi murmurs against his neck. “So perfect.” 

Once their fingers sink in all the way, Iwaizumi begins to carefully piston back and forth, using Oikawa’s hand to guide him. 

“Stretch’s good.” Oikawa’s breath is unbelievably hot. “I like that. Like it a lot." 

Iwaizumi rubs against Oikawa’s walls. “Me too.” There’s so much of Oikawa, slung over his body and breath falling onto his bare skin, tight around him and tears slinking down his cheeks. 

Pausing their fingers for a second, Iwaizumi presses a kiss to the falling tears. Oikawa’s eyelids are swollen, his eyelashes stuck together and wet with tears. His eyes themselves are glassed over, pupils blown from everything and Iwaizumi fucking loves it. 

“I like the salt of your tears.” Iwaizumi licks his lips, before sliding his finger deeper into Oikawa. Back and forth, petting his warm walls.

“Want three,” Oikawa says, his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. His thighs are shaking from holding himself up above the pleasure and bruises Iwaizumi put on earlier. “Your fingers.” 

Iwaizumi shakes his head, and directs their fingers in circles. Oikawa chokes at the pressure, at the stretch Iwaizumi knows could be overwhelming. So he doesn’t rush it, watching Oikawa’s face fight between pleasure and desperation. “I like fingering you like this.” 

_“Please.”_

Iwaizumi presses Oikawa’s finger down intently. 

He gasps, shooting upwards like Iwaizumi touched him with lightning.

“I said I’d help, right?” Iwaizumi rubs their fingers against Oikawa’s prostate, rocking back and forth in tiny circles. 

Oikawa sobs at the stimulation. His chest racks as tears fall down his cheeks and onto his neck. Without breaking the pattern of his fingers Iwaizumi leans down and licks up the tears. The salt bursts on his tongue. 

“Good?” 

“I like it, like it when—” Oikawa's words jumble as he attempts to talk. “Like it when it’s both of us in me, but—” 

Iwaizumi pulls away from Oikawa’s prostate and then digs into it, in a way he knows sends waves of pleasure all through Oikawa, overwhelming his capacity for speech. 

“But—” Oikawa tries again despite the wobble of his lips. “Fuck me.” 

Iwaizumi contemplates it, rocking back and forth to draw out Oikawa’s torture. He can feel Oikawa trembling against him, waiting, waiting for Iwaizumi to say something.

“Iwa—”

Iwaizumi slowly retracts their hands. 

He grins. It’s just so fun pushing Oikawa further, so fun breaking him down, slowly. “You wanna be fucked, Tooru?”

Oikawa sighs and then nods in relief, new tears dripping down his skin. “Want it, want it right now.” 

“Too bad.” Iwaizumi grips three of Oikawa’s fingers, feeling them to make sure there’s enough lube. “Keep fingering yourself. Stretch yourself for me.” 

“No, no, no!” Oikawa grabs for Iwaizumi’s chest, leaving lube streaks as he scratches for some kind of purchase. “Need you now.” His begging is interchangeable with sobs. 

“Two is enough, please, now—” Oikawa’s forehead thumps against Iwaizumi’s shoulder again with a hollow thump, lips working to make coherent sentences. “Need you now, please Iwa-chan.

“Please, _Hajime._ ”

The use of his first name is fucking killer. Iwaizumi uses Tooru all the time, but it’s harder for Oikawa to break out of the habitable Iwa-chan. Hajime is reserved for serious conversations, confessions and for sex. 

He's said it before, but this time, the way Oikawa says it is nothing less than a plea, than a wish and a little broken thing.

“You sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” Iwaizumi says with a rough voice. 

“Yeah, I’m sure, I’m sure,” Oikawa breathes out. 

“Colour?” 

“Iwa-chan, green, yes, yes—” Oikawa says against his shoulder, lips moving against Iwaizumi’s skin. Tears from Oikawa’s eyes track down Iwaizumi’s back. “—please, want you to hurt me, doesn’t matter just _fuck me._ ”

Iwaizumi swallows. He reaches for Oikawa’s hair, pulling him off Iwaizumi's shoulder. The tears are cutting through the heat on his back; Iwaizumi loves feeling Oikawa’s tangible desperation roll over him. “I really fucking like it when you beg.” 

Oikawa’s lips taste like the salt of his tears that have dripped down, and Iwaizumi revels in it. He licks the corners of Oikawa’s mouth that’s trembling. He’s a mess, tears tracking through the startling flush of his cheeks and hair falling over his eyes. Almost gone from here, chasing after need and Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi swipes Oikawa’s hair out of his face. Kisses the tears softly, landing on Oikawa’s lips. Giving him a second.

“I like kissing you,” Oikawa murmurs when some clarity flashes in his eyes. “Really like kissing you, Iwa-chan.”

“Like kissing you too, Tooru.” Iwaizumi trails kisses down his neck, lips ghosting over his collarbone and light tee-shirt tan line. Slowly, he dips down with Oikawa, propping him up with a pillow. 

“Good?” 

Oikawa sniffles. “Yeah.”

“Going to go slow, okay?” Iwaizumi tears open the condom package, and if his patience wasn’t about to run out he’d make Oikawa put it on him. Crawl over and shakily unroll it, biting his lip. Instead, Iwaizumi does it himself, the touch almost painful for his neglected cock.

Iwaizumi props himself up in between Oikawa’s legs. “Use the system.” 

“Okay, okay, green.” 

Iwaizumi rakes his eyes over Oikawa again. Tinted red eyes from crying, limbs akimbo with spiderwebs of veins, and the patch of red from Iwaizumi’s bites. “I really like when you’re under me.” 

“I like it when you’re in me.” Oikawa fists the bedsheets, his face screwed up in frustration. Iwaizumi swallows at the words, sweat polling on the back of his neck. “Hajime, _please.”_

“I know.” Iwaizumi takes his own cock, and places it on Oikawa’s entrance. Oikawa tries to shimmy lower on the bed, to take him in, and Iwaizumi sets a hand on Oikawa’s hips. 

“Hajime.” 

“I know.” Iwaizumi drags his cock over Oikawa’s rim, and his boyfriend keens with a sob, fists weakly hitting the bed. He can’t do anything more, and Iwaizumi revels in the way Oikawa’s looking at him, frustrated and wound up.

“Fuck—” 

Iwaizumi pushes inside him. Immediately, Oikawa arches off the bed with a strangled moan. Iwaizumi waits, breathing hard, and channels his energy into not snapping straight into Oikawa. 

And then Oikawa spreads his legs more in desperation, and Iwaizumi slips in a little deeper. 

“Shit, Tooru,” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa’s ankles are instantly pressing on his back, urging him to move.

“Move, Iwa-chan, move,” Oikawa cries, shaking. 

“Okay, slow.” It’s a miracle Iwaizumi can still talk, still think. One ankle slips off his back only to get kicked back on, Oikawa trying to force him deeper. 

Iwaizumi slides in slow, slow, making sure Oikawa can feel the deep burn of being split open, of his cock lodging deep inside to mark him as _his._

“Like you like this.” Iwaizumi licks his lips. “Like watching you take me in.” He’s watching Oikawa flutter around him, almost trying to suck him in even though Iwaizumi knows this must be painful for Oikawa. Masochist.

“Like—” Oikawa chokes out. “The stretch.”

Tears are leaking out of Oikawa’s eyes. Iwaizumi has the faint thought they should’ve tried the whole negotiation description thing when Oikawa was coherent enough to talk but there’s no way to backtrack and he still needs to break Oikawa. There’s next time, anyway.

“Yeah?” 

“Like,” Oikawa hiccups. “Like being full.” 

Iwaizumi continues sliding in slow, at an insane pace he wants to break every second he holds it. 

“Like,” Oikawa says. “This. Like you.” 

Iwaizumi reaches for one of Oikawa’s hands. He kisses the knuckle, although it’s got lube and that distinct taste of Oikawa on it from fingering himself.

“Love you too. I love you too.”

At that, although he’s heard it multitudes of times before, Oikawa sobs. Iwaizumi thumbs over Oikawa’s knuckles, soothing him, until he bottoms out.

“Mm,” Iwaizumi hums, his torso pressed flush against Oikawa’s ass. “Good job, Tooru. You take me so well.”

Oikawa swallows, and a tear falls down his cheeks. 

“I like this,” Iwaizumi says hotly. He starts pulling out slowly, dragging with the same speed from before against Oikawa’s walls. “I like this, Tooru.” 

Oikawa cries out when Iwaizumi slams into him. Keens over with fresh tears from both eyes, legs spazzing and ankles hitting Iwaizumi’s back. 

“Like that—” Oikawa sobs. “That—” 

Iwaizumi thrusts into him again, this time forcing Oikawa higher up onto the bed. The sheets scrunch around them.

They're dancing on the edge of a cliff, sandpaper grinding on their control and pleasure baiting them, pushing them further along. Iwaizumi can't wait to push Oikawa off and pick him up after, rebuilding him piece by piece.

"Hajime," Oikawa lets out, his eyes obscured by tears. "Hajime—" 

"Yeah?" Iwaizumi drives into his prostate, over and over again as Oikawa shudders around him, his body trying to process and pleasure with a silver lining of pain. He's matching Iwaizumi's pace the best he can, rocking back and forth with Iwaizumi. 

"—hand." Iwaizumi deciphers the words in between sobs. "Hold my hand."

Iwaizumi's rhythm stutters. _Hold my hand._ Oikawa's such a fucking romantic. Kissing and holding hands and caring touches. 

He reaches up, pressing his palm against Oikawa's and slowing enough to intertwine their fingers properly. Oikawa's fingers, shaking, grip his hand instantly, fitting to his knuckles.

"Like this." Oikawa chokes out. 

"I know," Iwaizumi breathes out, looking at their hands fused together. _God, I fucking love you._

Iwaizumi squeezes Oikawa's hand. "Me too." 

Oikawa smiles with exertion, pink lips over swollen and tears gliding down his hickies. 

_So. Pretty._

Iwaizumi rolls his hips deep, pressing flush against Oikawa's prostate. Nails stab into his back, and Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa's eyes roll back. At that, the last of his self-control snaps like a firecracker and sets a brutal pace as if to bruise the sex into Oikawa. To engrave, burn this, into both of them. 

"Pretty," Iwaizumi growls when Oikawa struggles to talk, his words garbled, replying on a combination of ankles locked around Iwaizumi's back and pulling him closer, and sharp cries. 

"Haj—close." 

With the way Iwaizumi's holding Oikawa's hand and supporting himself, he won't be able to jerk him off. And he wants to try something. 

"You are?" Iwaizumi snaps his hips. "You look so good like this, Tooru. So fucking pretty." 

Oikawa groans at the praise. 

"Come untouched for me, won't you?" Iwaizumi feels Oikawa's hand tighten around his. "I like seeing you come." 

_"Hajime."_ Oikawa's voice is broken, a small, crying call of desperation and feeling _good._

"Think you can? Think you can for me?" 

Oikawa nods with a sniff. "I can, I can—" 

Iwaizumi cuts him off by pulling out halfway and then burying back in. 

"Coming—" Oikawa convulses around him, back arching like a livewire. Heat tightens around Iwaizumi's cock as long ropes of white splatter on Oikawa's stomach, Oikawa's eyes screwed shut and mouth opened in a silent scream. 

Iwaizumi praises him through the orgasm. "Yes, Tooru, just like that. So perfect, so _perfect.”_

Oikawa goes almost boneless after, Iwaizumi still rolling his hips slowly, deep in Oikawa. 

"Good?" Iwaizumi lets go of Oikawa's hand and pushes the hair out of Oikawa's eyes. He cups Oikawa's cheek, who sniffles and leans into it. "Colour?"

"Green." Oikawa hiccups, breathing hard. His legs shake around Iwaizumi's back, ankles unlinked and slowly falling down.

"Pretty." It isn't even praise, just the truth. 

Oikawa whimpers. "Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan too." 

Iwaizumi's throat constricts. 

"Please, Iwa-chan, come." 

Iwaizumi never stands a chance against Oikawa's begging. It's like his voice is tugging at Iwaizumi's nerves, frantically wanting the exact same thing that Iwaizumi wants and he folds like a deck of cards.

"Please, please." Oikawa rubs his cheek against Iwaizumi's hand and weakly thrusts his own hips up. _"Please, Hajime."_

Iwaizumi comes with a grovel of Oikawa's name, chest heaving. His vision goes white for a split second, feeling Oikawa tighten around him and the soft cry his boyfriend lets out.

"Iwa-chan." A hand cups Iwaizumi's hand on Oikawa's cheek. It's warm, and tired. 

Oikawa smiles. He's lax under Iwaizumi, little tremors running through both of them. The sheets are wound against them, framing Oikawa, a skeleton of happiness and mirthful eyes. 

"Fuck, Tooru." Iwaizumi drinks in the sight of Oikawa blissed out, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Pulling out, okay?" Iwaizumi carefully leans back. 

"Okay." Oikawa's voice is soft. 

Oikawa winces once as Iwaizumi pulls out. 

"Hey, you okay?" Iwaizumi instantly checks him over as he ties up the condom. No bleeding, just love bites and thigh bruises but Iwaizumi still looks to Oikawa for confirmation. 

"Yeah, I’m good,” Oikawa says. "Just sensitive." 

"Okay." Iwaizumi drops the condom into the trash can beside their bed. He's still trying to contain his breathing, to catch up to it, running circles around him because Oikawa seems to have that effect on him. 

"Tooru." Iwaizumi tilts Oikawa's chin towards him for a kiss. His lips are coated in salt and tired, moving lazily but reach Iwaizumi with the same love as his words; _hold my hand._

_I really love you. Fuck._

Iwaizumi kisses him until he realizes the two of them are barely staying upright, about to collapse.

"Hajime." Oikawa's eyes are muted but happy. There are dried tear tracks down his cheeks, over his smile lines. "You're shaking."

"So are you," Iwaizumi scoffs, and presses another light kiss on Oikawa's lips before sitting back. 

Oikawa laughs. It's full of air, floaty, and Iwaizumi leans down to kiss him again, to taste the laugh. 

"They're the good shakes," Oikawa says, making Iwaizumi's heart grow. He swipes the towel from the corner of the bed, moving to clean Oikawa's stomach. Carefully mopping up the come with soft strokes. He knows Oikawa's always pretty sensitive to any touch after sex.

"You know." Oikawa's gaining his ability to talk again. "We kinda..." He laughs. 

"We did." Iwaizumi tosses the towel over the side of the bed. He'll take care of that later. 

They were supposed to describe what they liked during sex and go slow, but instead Iwaizumi broke him down until Oikawa ended up having trouble putting together words. 

"Well, I liked it." Oikawa pulls on Iwaizumi's arm, wrapping his limbs around Iwaizumi. They're still both gross, sweat and come and tears, but Iwaizumi can feel the post-coital weight settling in his bones. "I liked all of that." 

"Yeah?" They can talk about it more later, after sleep. 

"I like doing almost everything with you, Iwa-chan." Oikawa nuzzles his neck, lips brushing his skin. 

"Me too." Iwaizumi plants a kiss on his forehead. Haphazardly, he pulls their blanket around them—they can do laundry in the morning—feeling Oikawa squirm into the blanket. 

"That was very educational," Oikawa says, the sound of a grin in his voice.

"Oikawa!" Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, heart swelling, swelling, swelling at his boyfriend and his stupidity. 

"What!" Oikawa laughs. "I learned a lot!" 

"Oh, shut up." Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa into his chest, muffling his words. "Sleep." 

"Love you." The words are slurred. 

"Huh?" 

Oikawa's head pops up again. Lips tickle Iwaizumi's cheek, a crackle of love going off even though he's heavily sex-sated. His heart burns in the best way possible. 

"I said I love you." Oikawa grins. 

"Mmm." Iwaizumi hums. 

Oikawa waits, and waits. 

"Iwa-chan," he whines when Iwaizumi stays quiet. It's peaceful under the covers, a cocoon of happiness running over the two of them.

"I love you too, stupid." Iwaizumi looks down at Oikawa in his arms, toasted eyes and a loose, hopeful smile. 

He's always, everything Iwaizumi's ever wanted and absolutely nothing good for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not a sinner what do you mean
> 
> okay but this is my first time posting a sex scene soo what do y'all think? it was a fricking monster to write and edit. kinda planned for it to only be the negotiation and then the story ran away and dragged me uselessly behind
> 
> [carrd!](https://deltatrevino.carrd.co/)


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